


Wired

by neighborhoodninja



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neighborhoodninja/pseuds/neighborhoodninja





	Wired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panna_c0tta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panna_c0tta/gifts).



"Alright, boys, let's go over the three P's of press conferences. Who's got the first one?"

"Punctuality." Cullen says, sitting across the table.

"Exactly. Well done. Now, who wants to offer up…"

Michael yawns and glances to his right, where Ryan's playing Fruit Ninja on his iPhone, not quite inconspicuously.

They've been sitting in Peter's boardroom for an hour, discussing what they're going to do for the upcoming press conference. The cookie-cutter answers they're going to give (which Ryan always inevitably finds a way to fuck up.) How their faces will slip seamlessly from thoughtful consideration to flattered smiles. The exact pattern of hand gestures they'll use to add life to their already engaging answers.

Michael's bored as fuck.

"Damn." Ryan mutters from next to him as he slices through a bomb by accident. Michael looks over and slaps at his hand.

"Cut it out."

"I'm almost at my high score, nope."

"Peter's gonna look away from the board any second and- "

"Michael! Thank you for volunteering." Peter says, staring down at him. Michael swallows hard. "Would you like to give us the second P of press conference expectations?"

Michael racks his brain. "Um, poise, sir."

"Precisely!" Peter cries, setting his pen back to the whiteboard. "Poise can be executed in a graceful and socially acceptable manner using the following…"

As Peter launches into a description of the rod-straight back and the head slightly tilted to the side, Michael's phone dings quietly from his pocket. Peter somehow doesn't notice, so Michael pulls it out. 

[Ryan 2:32 PM  
im bored]

Michael rolls his eyes.

[Michael 2:32 PM  
shut up and listen]

[Ryan 2:32 PM  
y  
u can entertain me :D]

[Michael 2:33 PM  
shut UP]

[Ryan 2:33 PM  
*gets on knees under table*]

[Ryan 2:33 PM  
I'm gonna blow u are u cool with that]

Michael blushes violently and tries to ignore the fact that this is mildly sexy. 

[Michael 2:34 PM  
gonna block ur number u fuckface]

[Ryan 2:34 PM  
unzipping ur pants]

[Ryan 2:35 PM  
taking ur dick in my mouth  
its wet and warm and fuckable  
uh huh right there]

[Michael 2:35 PM  
I'm going to actually strangle until your balls fall out you little shit shut up]

[Ryan 2:35  
It's hitting the back of my throat  
and i'm bobbing my head up and down]

[Ryan 2:36  
you're fucking my face bcuz i can handle that]

Michael barely has the time to register the fact that, indeed, he has a boner when Peter's laser glare falls on him.

"Michael! Would you like to give us the third P of press conferences?"

Michael's eyes widen and he prays to Gawd above and promises he'll sacrifice his soul on the spot if Peter doesn't ask him to stand up. "P…um…perfection, Peter, sir. Sir."

"EXCELLENT!" Peter says, slapping his hand on the table so that his coffee spills a little. Everyone flinches. "Michael, would you like to demonstrate the walk and countenance of a truly perfected athlete?" Peter's smile borders on sadistic and Michael gulps.

"Um, Peter, sir, I'm actually really sore from yesterday's practice, and I had to enlist the help of Mr. Adrian over here just to carry me up the steps and into the room, so…" Michael slams his foot into Nathan's leg under the table and Nathan lets out a small squeak before nodding emphatically. "I'm afraid- "

"Michael, I believe you must have a problem with short-term memory loss. You see, according to your schedule, which I have here…" Peter produces a foot-thick pamphlet and regards it with triumph, "you did not have practice yesterday."

"Ah, that may be true, sir, but I _have_ developed a life-threatening allergy to sunlight, and since you're standing in a patch of it, there's no way I could- "

"MICHAEL." Peter says, eyes flaring. "Demonstrate the walk and countenance of a truly perfected athlete for us. Now."

So Michael squeezes his eyes shut and walks as quickly as he can up to Peter to try to create a blurring effect, then back to his chair. His stupid boner still hasn't gone down. 

"Michael, that was certainly not the quintessential walk of an athlete. Have another attempt."

So Michael takes a deep breath, and as he gets up and walks like he's on a line over to Peter, he can feel the entire room's eyes drifting to his crotch. There's dead silence, and Michael's face feels like those fried eggs he ate that morning. 

When it's over, Peter clears his throat and proceeds to launch into yet another list of appropriate interview responses. Michael goes back to his seat and smacks the back of Ryan's head. Ryan doesn't even react, just snickers.

[Michael 2:41  
i hate u]

[Ryan 2:41  
u love me]

[Michael 2:42  
false]

[Ryan 2:42  
true]

[Michael 2:42  
i'm never talking to you again  
and that means we can't have any more sex]

[Ryan 2:43  
D': how can i make it up to you]

[Michael 2:43  
u can follow up on that bj promise]

[Ryan 2:44  
deal]


End file.
